Tag Archives: secours catholique

Message: For Lek and Sowat, hoping that this message will reach you directly.

I’ve just finished reading ‘Mausoleum’ – my boyfriend, a hip-hop fan, just received it for his birthday. Surprise: A book talking about a supermarket and migrant populations i know (too) well…

At the 23rd of the Commanderie Boulevard, a few meters away from the temple, lies the CEDRE’S prefab. It’s one of Caritas France centers, dedicated to migrants and refugees. The Center mostly helps with administrative processing to obtain French residency, it is not a shelter. It also offers french and computer classes as well as other activities.

During three years, I supervised there a theater and puppet workshop for adults from all over the world. Being myself an immigrant’s daughter, I’ve lived an extraordinarily rich human experience with them.

Before it was shut down (around early 2008 if my memory is correct), we would go with my students in the supermarket to get the material we needed too build puppets and theater accessories. Every once in a while we would also buy things to improvise a snack or a meal. We knew the guys from security: most of the time, when my students went there on their own, they wouldn’t let them in. When we went there together, there never was a problem. It made us laugh.

As everyone knows, living conditions for people seeking french asylum greatly downgraded during our former president’s term. As helpers, the difficult question of finding rooms in housing shelter, was at the core of all our worries. Each month, their number decreased. Some of my students didn’t even want to tell me where they managed to sleep…

I met these destinies, mostly men, groping their way into the darkness, fleeting shadows, unbearable pains, unthinkable life stories. Some finally obtained their green cards, got married, had children. Others disappeared, became insane or committed suicide.

I saw in your book a fascinating artistic endeavor, a scream of outrage but also a tribute to all those who spent, if only a night, on those fucking mattresses lying amidst the parking’s floor.

I was touched knowing that you’ve transformer this place, that you made it your own, for yourself, for them, for your readers.

So thank you, a huge thank you et maybe we’ll see each other one day – today, we live in Lille. There’s no shortage of work here, for writers that love painting in industrial ruins!